


Peanut Butter and Jam

by moonguks (orphan_account)



Series: PB & J Verse [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: AU: apple-pie life, Cas is too, Cas makes jam, Dean really really loves his daughter, Dean's a rambling nerd, First Meetings, Fluff without Plot, Jude Winchester - Freeform, Kid Fic, M/M, Single Dad Dean, actually there is a plot but idk it's been drowned out by all the flirting, fluff without any actual tangible plot??, idek, pretty gross actually, they're both dorks here ok, yes i named her jude bc why not
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-01
Updated: 2015-04-01
Packaged: 2018-03-20 17:33:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,268
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3659058
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/moonguks
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>in which Castiel makes jam and Dean's daughter's goal is to eat the best PB and J known to man.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Peanut Butter and Jam

**Author's Note:**

> so apparently this is my first posted spn fic and it's un-beta'd so i apologize in advance for any grammatical errors. 
> 
> enjoy! : 3

Having lived in _Beo Gratia Village_ his entire life, it has always been Castiel’s tradition to leave housewarming gifts for every new resident of their neighbourhood. He took it upon himself to continue his mother’s old traditions of leaving a classic jar of his mother’s famous strawberry jam before their front doors.

It was an unspoken tradition, one known by the people who’ve lived in the vicinity for at least a year or two. It usually earned him several nods and smiles in the afternoon, when he’d jog from _Inias’ Street_ to _Hael’s Avenue_ , sometimes even some greetings and waves _._ All in all, his little act of welcoming always bore fruit to good things—things he deeply appreciated during particular disheartening days.

That is before someone decided to come knocking loudly at his door at some ungodly hour of the morning (Though it isn’t really much of an argument since Castiel’s definition of ungodly hours is equivalent to anything before 12 in the afternoon), asking, no scratch that, _pleading_ to buy a jar of strawberry jam from him.

But it did help that that someone was none other than the man whom which had recently moved in with his daughter a week ago. It was the same man that Castiel _definitely, did not, _drool over as he watched the man pull over at the empty house across Castiel’s in a sleek black car with his adorable daughter singing a duet with him while the car’s stereo played.

Actually now that Castiel thinks about it, the fact did not help at all. He watches as Dean—his older neighbours hadn’t really been able to shut up about the gorgeous hell of a man raising his daughter. _He’s doing it all alone,_ they whispered to each other, horrified by the idea of someone as kind and compassionate as the man to be single—rubs the back of his neck sheepishly, _endearingly_ rambling out an excuse for his spontaneous visit.

Honestly, if it weren’t for the politeness his mother had drilled onto him ever since he was a child, he wouldn’t have opened his door at seven am for anyone, hot single father or not. But Castiel, at this point, couldn’t deny the perks of his politeness.

“Hey so um, I know it’s a bit too early for this and you’re the one who left my kid and I that lovely jar of jam when we moved in right? I remember hearing old woman Dunkins say so a few days back. Anyway, we sorta finished your jam in a day or so and the next day and Jude asked for more so I bought some from the grocery but she didn’t like it and that kind of went on for week; me buying her a hell’uva lot of brands of jam and her not approving of any of them and I _fuck,_ I was stupid enough _not_ to think of just buying from you. I only realized that this morning and _Christ_ , it’s her birthday today. _Shit,_ I’m desperate, I don’t usually ramble like this but—“

Castiel cuts him off in the kindest way possible (He surprises himself by doing so because he can’t usually function without a cup of coffee to gulp down the moment he needs to do anything productive but he just chalks that up as one of the few miracles Dean can do) saying, “You’re panicking. Breathe. Okay, so, your daughter’s birthday, you say?”

Dean nods silently, obliging to Castiel’s instruction to breathe and suddenly all the tension in the man’s face leaves as he exhales and seems to remember the fact that _right, my daughter’s birthday_. His face lights up so brightly that Castiel actually _resists_ the urge to swoon because he definitely _doesn’t_ swoon and he definitely _doesn’t_ find his neighbour _sweet_.

“Her 6th, actually,” Dean says with a grin and Castiel absent-mindedly notes that he’d be willing to count each and every freckle that sprinkled Dean’s blessed face whenever the sun catches his skin.

“That’s wonderful,” replies Castiel, once he finally recovers from _not-drooling_ over Dean. “Wait, you’ve been buying different jams for your daughter all week? I can add a jar of blueberry jam, or the same strawberry if you want. It will be on me, since I enjoyed myself the other day and went over my quota.”

Dean suddenly stops, realizing what Castiel means. “Hang on, no, _fuck,_ man, that’s fine. I’ve already woken you up when you could’ve slept in this Saturday. About the different jams all week, well it kinda comes when you have a kid, ya know? I’d do anything to make her happy, even if it meant over-stocking on a lot of shitty jams. Besides, you can’t possibly just _be that nice_ to give away a jar.”

“I’m not.” Castiel actually smiles at 7 am in the morning without a cup of coffee at hand and a decent breakfast being digested in his stomach because _how_ can this man be so endearing. “Which is why you’re paying for the first jar. Think of it as a…buy-one-take-one promo for your daughter’s birthday.”

Castiel later learns Dean has _goddamn dimples_ and he thinks, okay, so maybe his jam _did_ only bear good things—good things that Castiel definitely appreciates.

 

\--

 

Dean loves his daughter, there was no denying that. He’d do anything for her without a second thought; she’s got her daddy wrapped around her precious little fingers, after all.

For the past few days, Jude has been insisting on buying every friggin’ brand of jam there is known to the entirety of mankind in order to acquire her perfect PB & J. Being the world’s most whipped father of all time, Dean does what he’s asked.

But every single time she takes a bite of the sandwich filled with Peanut Butter and Jam-of-another-different-brand-that-Dean’s-bought-this-week, she’d never fail to briefly squint at it as if it had personally offended her before trying to finish it for the sake of her innate politeness and saint-like ways (Dean honestly doesn’t know where she’d inherited those traits because no matter how much Sammy would pay him to eat rabbit food, he still definitely wouldn’t finish that shit, let alone eat it-because for the record, Dean Winchester does _not_ eat rabbit food).

Dean, of course, would still finish the PB & J himself after seeing how hard his daughter always tries to appreciate his effort of making her another sandwich, even if by now he was sick and tired of peanut butter and whole-wheat bread and jam; the duty of a father, ya di ya di ya—not that Dean ever minded to make Jude smile.

Has Dean ever mentioned how much he loves his daughter? Because he really, _really_ does.

So yeah, that’s why when he realizes that the only thing Jude’s really been asking for her birthday was his inappropriately _attractive_ neighbour’s jam from across the street, he panics.

He quickly grabs his wallet, rushes down the stairs and slips on his robes and slippers before thanking whatever there is up there for Jude’s—possibly unhealthy—habit of sleeping in, even on her birthday.

He barely manages to compose himself when he rambles in front of Castiel (Old woman Dunkins never fails to gush about the sweet orphaned boy who gives out jams to new residents like his mother did when she was alive—not that Dean could blame her, Castiel definitely was an interesting topic).

It’s goddamn embarrassing and Dean thanks whoever is up there _again_ because he could just imagine the look on Sammy’s face if he witnessed his cool and _extremely_ smooth brother ramble because of the state of panic he was in and the overwhelming sight of the bluest blue eyes Castiel’s got.

Dean isn’t sure how it’s possible but after Castiel smiles and offers to give away another jar of jam for Jude, the sign that reminds him “ _YOU’RE BISEXUAL!_ ” becomes bigger and flashes at him in bright neon lights _even more_ so than usual.  

“I’m Dean, by the way,” Dean says in a faux casual tone, when Castiel invites him in. _Fucking smooth, Winchester._

Castiel doesn’t notice Dean beating himself up for such a dorky intro, but rather, adorably enough, blurts out, “I know.” He widens those bright blue eyes when he realizes what he’s said and rambles, with his face flushing red, “Um, I mean, I’m Castiel.”

They’re quiet for a few moments, the silence a bit awkward as Castiel shuffles to get the jams before Dean actually laughs loudly at their predicament. Castiel turns and gives him a confused look, head cocking slightly to the side.

Dean manages to stifle his laughter before explaining, “Sorry, it’s just—It’s seven-frickin’-am and I’m buying _jam_ in my robes.”

Castiel chuckles, and it’s a deep reverberating sound that goes well with the man’s gravelly voice as it quickly washes away the earlier awkwardness, “I suppose it is a bit odd.”

“Odd’s an understatement, don’t ya think?”

“Don’t worry Dean, contrary to popular belief, I do deal with a lot of odd, what with my job and all,” Castiel says good-naturally, as if Dean knew what Cas’ job was.

“Aw c’mon man, don’t tell me you’re working as some sort of modern _Sweeney Todd_ who mixes human flesh and shit on your jam to make it taste good. Because if you are, I’m doing a refund,” Dean jokes with a smile that immediately falls once Castiel squints at him, confused by Dean for the second time that morning.

“I don’t think I understand that reference,” he admits.

Dean raises his eyebrows, “Dude, really?” But he immediately jumps back into beat after that and begins to explain to Cas who exactly Sweeney Todd is and Cas earnestly listens. It’s nice, Dean thinks, to have someone genuinely interested of what he has to say. It’s been a while since someone besides Jude has done that.

When they reach the front door, Castiel hands him the pair of jars with a glint in his eyes that lifts the edges of Dean’s lips notably, “If you’re suspicions of my occupation is right, I guess I really can’t reassure you of the origins of the fruits in my jams.”

Dean, after blinking for a moment to process the statement, honest to God, guffaws at that. Castiel then smiles, pleasant and proud of himself for Dean’s reaction.

“Say Cas,” Dean begins when he finally gets himself together. (They've only officially known each other for around an hour or two and somehow Dean’s already managed to give him a nickname. Dean thinks, eloquently enough, that he’s fucked.) “Since I’ve already bothered you enough—“

“You have.” Cas nods seriously and for a moment Dean thinks he’s overstepped but there’s that glint in Castiel’s eyes again and so Dean continues with a ridiculous grin plastered on his face.

“Anyway, I was wondering if maybe you wanted to have breakfast with me and Jude. I can cook up a pretty mean breakfast plate.” Dean gives Cas one of his most charming smiles, the one that makes Sam roll his eyes and girls (with the occasional guy) do whatever he’d ask them to. Except this smile actually reached his ears and Dean was sure his ears felt warmer than usual despite the morning breeze flapping against his worn house robes.

Dean totally _wasn’t_ asking him out…unless Castiel wanted him to, of course.

Castiel considers the offer for a moment before nodding at Dean with another small smile lifting the corners of his lips.

Against all odds, Dean’s smile widens and he exclaims, “Great, that’s great man. Jude will _love_ you. C’mon.”

Dean walks down Castiel’s front porch and motions his hand towards his home to lead Cas, but Cas, surprised by the spontaneous invitation, stammers out a, “Wait…you mean now?”

Dean looks over his shoulder to meet Cas’— _adorably_ —confused face. He gives Cas a funny look, “Yeah right now. Don’t know if you’ve forgotten but it is 8 am and people usually have breakfast at—.”

“Oh shut up, I know that.” Cas cocks his head to the side and gives him a partially exasperated look that tells Dean to ‘ _stop being a dick even if you’re a sorta okay guy_ ’—well, that’s what Dean thinks he meant anyway.

Cas continues, gesturing to his outfit, “It’s just that I don’t quite think my slippers are appropriate for a breakfast invitation. I haven’t even _seen_ my reflection and I already know I look like crap.”

Dean rolls his eyes and turns a 360 to give Cas a full view on his attire. “Dude, have you been so busy looking at my face that you’ve failed to notice that I’m only wearing boxers and a shirt under these robes?”

Dean honestly didn’t mean to say the first part out loud but his tendency to flirt under any circumstance doesn’t really have an off switch so, _opps_?

 One look at Castiel’s reddening ears and neck tells Dean he didn’t miss the first part of Dean’s statement either.

Still blushing, Castiel stammers out, “Maybe.”

Dean grins at that, despite the blood rushing to his own face.

And that’s how Jude Winchester later found herself eating the “ _bestest PB and J ever!_ ” with her Daddy and her new Uncle Cas (who in three-years-time will probably her new Papa) on her 6th birthday at 9 am in the morning.

Gone were the days when Jude complained about her jam not being good enough for her PB and J because, conveniently enough, the Winchester household never ran out of any type of jam after that.


End file.
